Greeting Death
by Mysstik Quill
Summary: The Prophecy said that neither can live while the other survives. But Harry thinks that it left something out, That neither can die while the other lay dead. Harry/Draco.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter or anything relating to the Harry Potter franchise. It belongs to J.K Rowling even though I think she's doing the Most

* * *

Draco had swore to himself at the beginning of the school year that he would thank Harry Potter -and be done with him- for A. saving him and Goyle from the fiendfyre and B. testifying for him and his mother after the War.

Which is why, he's out in the courtyard-past curfew- following an unsuspecting Potter to a lonely bench drenched in moonlight.

"Why are you sat out here? In the middle of the night?" Draco sneered, coming up behind Potter to lean against a pillar.

To his credit, Potter didn't jump at the sound of Draco's voice. He merely tilted his head back towards him and said, "I could ask you the same thing."

"I've followed you, obviously."

"Obviously," Potter chuckled. "What for? I thought we were past all the pettiness, Malfoy."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the back of Potter's messy black head, had he known Draco was following him the entire time?

"Piss off, and to think I came all this way to thank you."

Potter leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hand, presenting Draco with the curve of his back. "Wow. That's...unexpected. You're welcome, I suppose."

"'You're welcome'? I haven't even-," Draco pushed himself off the pillar and sat in a huff next to Potter. If he didn't do this properly it would haunt him. And he'd think he owed Potter more than he already did. He didn't need Potter's heroic deeds hanging over his head like a guillotine.

"Yes, _you're welcome_. I, quote, 'saved the wizarding world', unquote." Potter spat.

"Hang the wizarding world!" it bubbled out of Draco before he had a chance to stop it. "You saved me and Goyle. You testified for me and mother to stay out of Azkaban, when others would have gladly seen us rot. So… Thank you."

Potter snapped his head to Draco and appraised him, his green eyes piercing. "...No problem."

* * *

The next time Draco saw Potter, the boy was squished next to Granger on an overstuffed chair near the fireplace. It was almost time for lunch and Draco was putting his studying materials away with Blaise complaining about Slughorn inviting him to another Slug Club meeting when Wesley entered through the mirror that served as a door to their joint common room.

"Oi, time for lunch you lot."

Granger, who was scribbling furiously on her parchment shook her head and mumbled something that Draco could only assume was 'not hungry'. Potter nodded his agreement.

The ginger folded his arms and puffed himself up, Draco barely suppressed a snort.

"You missed breakfast." He said as if that was that.

Draco could see Potter lifting his head to shoot Weasley down again, but stopped at the look on his face. It was pinched with worry, though his blue eyes glared hard at the two.

Potter cleared his throat and nudged Granger who looked up, irritation sliding off her face immediately after witnessing the look on her boyfriends face.

"Okay," Potter said.

"We won't miss dinner either," Granger supplied.

Draco followed Blaise up the staircase to the dorms and wondered what that was all about.

* * *

Once again Draco found Potter sitting in the courtyard, well after midnight. He doesn't know what's drawn him out of bed at this time, or what as brought him to this place. But he takes a seat next to Potter as if it was waiting for him to fill it.

"Stalking me again?" Potter sounded weary, his voice was rough from disuse and Draco was sure that if he looked over towards him there would be heavy bags below his green eyes.

Draco scoffed. "No, I couldn't sleep," he lied.

He should leave, Draco knew. He and Potter weren't friends and the boy was clearly going through something that Draco was sure he wanted no business in.

From his peripheral vision he could see Potter's brown hands twisting in discomfort. Yes, Draco should leave. Just as he was getting up Potter's voice stopped him.

"Can I tell you something? You can say no."

Draco weighed the options in his mind before deciding on a 'yes'.

"I haven't even told Ron and Hermione yet, so…"

"I won't tell anyone you're precious little secret, Potter. So spit it out so I can go back to bed." He crossed his arms and got comfortable -as much as one could- on the bench,

What could be so private that Potter couldn't tell his closest groupies?

Potter took a deep breath.

"You wouldn't know this, but, during the war-or before it, really- there was a prophecy. It said that I was the only one who could defeat Voldemort." Potter took a breath, "Sort of."

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, because _of course_ everything was always about Potter-the chosen one. However, he refrained because this was new information to him, he knew there was some sort of prophecy, but not what it pertained.

"It said that 'neither could live while the other survived." Potter swallowed hard, and Draco looked over to see the other boy's eyes screwed shut. His dark skin pale was in the darkness.

"But I think-I think it left out something." Silent tears slid Potter's face and Draco was frozen. "If neither can live while the other survives, then I don't think, either can die while the other is dead."

Draco took in a sharp breath. Was Potter saying what he think he was saying? That he was what? Immortal?

Draco bit his lip, "Thats not-Have you…"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't tested the theory. I just...have a feeling." He placed a hand on chest and pressed. "Something's off."

Harry turned to Draco, his tear streaked face glistening in the moonlight. "He's taken something from me again-Voldemort. Once again he's taken my family from me."

* * *

this is actually my first fic in this fandom, you y'all enjoy


	2. Chapter 2

Draco couldn't sleep, he laid in his four-poster bed uncomfortable in his silk pajamas.

Potter had left after confiding in Draco. Left him sitting in open mouth horror on that accursed bench.

Merlin, that couldn't be possible. Potter, immortal. It was ridiculous.

The closest anyone got to immortality was Nicholas Flammel, and he wasn't so much immortal as he was _ancient_.

And the prophecy. This was the prophecy that his Father went to Azkaban for attempting to steal? That made him lose favor with The Dark Lord?

Draco rolled to his side and thought of Harry Potter. Tears streaming down his dark cheeks, messy black hair falling into his eyes. His brown hands clasped together as if in prayer. Green eyes searching for salvation in the wrong person.

 _Neither can die while the other is dead._

But truly, it was the worst thing The Dark Lord could do, in his death, to an orphaned boy whose only family was in the afterlife.

* * *

Draco found Potter sat in library hunched over a rather thin book and tossing what looked to be a golden snitch in the air before deftly catching it, then threw it once more.

When he approached the table Potter-without looking away from his book- flung the snitch at Draco's head.

He captured it in one quick motion before twirling it between two slender fingers.

"Are you always this ill-behaved when innocent people approach you?"

Potter closed the book and cocked his head. "Innocent?"

He didn't say the words harshly, yet Draco felt the wave of shame roll through him. They had all done things in the war.

Draco dropped the matter when Potter reached out his hand for the snitch.

"Anything interesting?" he said handing over the golden ball. The book Potter had closed was called _Immortality: Insane Implausibility or Interesting Inkling_.

"Not really." he said pocketing the snitch. "It's just a lot of speculation."

Potter looked considerably better than he had last night. His eyes were no longer rimmed red from crying. His skin had lost it's sickly pallor and returned to it natural state.

"How do you know?" It was all Draco could think to ask.

Potter once again brought his hand up to his chest, "It's like-I can just feel it."

"Merlin and Morgana, Potter that shouldn't be possible!" he hissed, suddenly angry, "I mean-The Dark Lord couldn't even make himself immortal."

Draco wanted, for some reason, so very badly for Potter to believe what he was saying. That he was not immortal. That he, like everyone else, would someday die.

However, Potter just looked at him strangely and whispered, "I hope you're right."

* * *

This time around Potter found him.

He was eating breakfast with Blaise and Goyle when Potter came marching up to the Slytherin table.

"Draco."

All three Slytherin heads snapped up at the sound of Potter's voice. In fact, the entire table seemed to halt.

Draco straightened his back and lifted his chin-just like his father had taught him. "Yes?"

Potter looked a bit wrung out, if Draco said so himself. His eyes were wild and he was staring at Draco as if he was the only person in the room.

But he wasn't. And just past Potter at the Gryffindor table, Draco could seen Granger, Weasley, and pretty much everyone else gawking at the Chosen One speaking to someone who's family openly served the Dark Lord.

However, Potter didn't care about any of that. "I think I've figured it out. A way to tell," he said urgently.

Draco's eyes widened, "You-I." he slammed his mouth shut before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.

Potter had found a way? He was going to prove that he wasn't immortal and that could be the end of it. This weird connection he and Potter had based on a ludicrous secret. Draco wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Draco stood abruptly and made his way over to Potter without so much as a parting to Blaise and Goyle.

The whispers began before the unlikely duo even left the Great Hall.


	3. Chapter 3

do not own y'all

* * *

"So what is it?" Draco asked, adjusting his shoulder bag. He had to lengthen his strides to match Potter's almost jog. During the months Potter and his entourage had been missing from school he'd grow an inch or two. His long legs obscured by the sweeping of his robe across the stone floor.

"You'll see. I'm an idiot-it's literally the most simple solution." Potter led him up to the seventh floor.

He stopped in front an expanse of wall across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "Give me a moment." he said.

Potter walked back and forth 3 times and when a small door appeared Draco said,his breath catching, "This place again. The stress this room caused me, Potter."

The other boy had the nerve to chuckle, "It'll be different this time."

He was right. Inside the room was nothing. No clutter of random objects, no vanishing cabinet, no fiendfyre, no Crabbe.

Though the room was empty it didn't stop Draco's heart from beating twice as fast inside his chest. This room was genesis of his downfall. The murder of Albus Dumbledore, the mistake that cost Crabbe his life. The things he did for The Dark Lord-for his family. He could have sworn he felt the faded brand on his left arm burn.

Draco couldn't imagine what his face looked like in that moment because Potter's face was the picture of concern.

He took a step cautiously towards Draco, as if any sudden movements might cause him to flee or attack. "...Draco?"

"Why do you call me that?" he snapped, stepping back out of Potter's reach. "We're not friends, Potter!" He had to latch onto something tangible, something that didn't hurt.

Potter's mouth tilted up in smile. Like he could deal with an irate Draco rather than an emotional one.

"Feel free to call me Harry." Draco's eyes narrowed. "Also, I told you a secret and you kept it. We're friends. Or at least partner in crime."

Friends. After all these years.

Potter was the savior of the wizarding world. Liable to be the most powerful wizard in centuries once he graduated from Hogwarts. He be offered everything from jobs to a seat on Wizengamot. He was already the youngest holder of an Order of Merlin, First Class.

While Draco was almost nothing. The Malfoy name had been tarnished, the only thing he held was Malfoy Manor and that was by the skin of his teeth. He and so many others were in disgrace for being on the wrong side of the war. And though not many people knew it, he bore the mark of the Dark Lord himself.

How could he possibly be friends with Harry Potter.

Potter- _Harry_ \- shrugged and backed further into the room, away from Draco. "So are you going to help me?"

He asked like he didn't care how Draco answered, but his green eyes were pleading. Draco found himself saying, "Well, what are friends for." he was almost 100% sure he'd regret saying that.

Draco lowered his shoulder bag to the floor and focused on Harry, the sooner they left the accursed room the better.

"So what's this simple plan?"

"I need you to kill me," Harry said as if he was asking for the transfiguration homework.

Hysterical laughter bubbled out of Draco's chest. "Kill you? The famous _Harry Potter_. I'll be sent to Azkaban before I even lifted my wand."

"I can't do it myself. Not.. not..." the dark skinned boy got this far off look in his eyes and Draco had the sinking feeling he was going to say 'not again'.

Draco could tell by the look on Harry's face that he was serious. Draco's stomach dropped to his feet, "This isn't going to work and if it does you'll be _dead_! You're not immortal, you might be above plenty of other rules, Potter. But not this one."

"I won't die, I'm sure of it. I just need to be certain."

"Ask someone else. Granger, Weasley, anyone else." Draco felt sick.

"You know I can't. Draco, I need to know."

Draco couldn't do this. He could not do this. This room, Harry Potter's stupid pitiful face. His throat was closing up and if his stomach could sink any lower it would be on the floor.

Harry chanced a step toward him and Draco scooped up his bag and fled from the room before the other boy could open his mouth.

* * *

Draco avoided Harry like he had Dragon Pox.

He should have stuck to his original plan, he'd thanked Harry Potter and that should have been the end of it.

But no, that scarhead had to share his secrets. Make Draco worried and curious all at once. And why couldn't he ask someone else. Did Potter think that because he almost killed Dumbledore, he'd kill him.

Did Potter think Draco owed him something? Or perhaps that the horrible Slytherin would love to kill the person who defeated The Dark Lord?

Draco slammed the door open to Moaning Myrtles toilet. Luckily the spirit wasn't there. He sighed and ran his hands down his face. What in Merlin's name did he get himself into?

"Malfoy?"

A girls voice rang out. Was Draco hallucinating or was that Granger?

"Malfoy we saw you come in here," she said. Voice drifting from further into the bathroom.

"Yeah, mate. Stop hiding." A male voice that had to be Weasley.

Draco prayed to Merlin that Harry was not among his friends. "I'm not hiding," he snapped. "What do you think one does in the toilet." He flushed the empty bowl.

He opened the stall door to find Weasley leaning against the sink, his orange hair a beacon in the dingy bathroom. Next to him with a strange look on her dark face was Granger.

Weasley sneered at him, "That would be convincing if this wasn't the girls restroom, Malfoy."

Draco told himself not to fall for the bait. As he made to wash his hands Granger cleared her throat.

"What's going on with you and Harry?"

Straight to the point. "Why don't you ask him."

The muggleborn girl huffed, causing a strand of curly hair to fly from her face. "We _have_. He won't tell us. We're worried and you seem to be the only one he's speaking to."

Draco should just tell them, let them deal with Harry's insanity. But…

 _Also, I told you a secret and you kept it. We're friends_. "Seems to me that if he wanted you to know, you'd know."

Weasley pushed off the counter, "Stop jerking us around, Malfoy. He needs help. He's up all night or in the library all day. He won't eat or talk to us."

"He has PTSD from the war-we all do.' Granger looked up at Draco with wide brown eyes. "But the other evening, the same day he dragged you from breakfast. I found him on the Astronomy Tower, just staring over the edge."

Draco's eyes widen. Was he really going to try and test his theory himself?

"Where is he?"

* * *

Harry was stood in the middle of the quidditch pitch. No broom or uniform, he looked lost.

It was Draco's turn to approach the boy with caution. "There's no match on today."

Harry's shoulder's fell, like he was relieved to hear Draco's voice.

"Yeah, it's a shame. I really do live for Luna's commentary."

Draco had to agree. Looney Lovegood was a riot when it came to quidditch.

"You're groupies are worried. They cornered me the restroom asking about you." Harry still hadn't turned to face him.

"Sorry about that." His voice suddenly dropped, as if he was reminded of all his troubles.

Draco keeped pushing, "Granger said you had something called PTSD? Is it muggle?" He made a face. "Is it contagious?"

Harry chuckled, a mirthless sound. "It means Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's when your mind and body can't quite escape a traumatic event. It's like you don't know that you're safe now."

"But," he finally turned around and Draco was speechless at the look on his face. "I'm nothing but safe if I cannot die."

His stomach clinched, Harry truly believed he was immortal, invincible. That was dangerous.

Draco found his voice and swallowed hard, "I think I may have that." Bypassing Harry's words.

Harry only shrugged. "I'm sure you do. Hermione says we all do." His voice echoed Grangers.

"She says we were children caught in an unfair war. An unfair world."

He's never heard Harry speak like this before. Melancholy and devoid of hope, it reminded him of himself in his sixth year.

"I don't owe you anything." Draco found himself saying.

"I never said that you did."

A beat.

"Were you really going to throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry tilted his head to side and furrowed his brow, "Of course not, I'm not suicidal."

A bubble of laughter erupted from Draco, he found that hard to believe. "I think you're going to die, Harry Potter."

"I hope so," a small smile crept to his lips.

* * *

pls review. it makes me happy and inspired


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own Harry Potter

* * *

Draco was in the Restricted Section at the library. It had taken longer than he'd like to admit to convince Madam Pince that he _hadn't_ forged Professor Flitwick's signature. He was excelling in all his classes, there is no reason Madam Pince shouldn't believe him.

Although, he supposed that she, like so many others, grew a certain distaste for Slytherin house.

Draco scowled as he combed through the shelves. The only reason he was here was Harry.

He'd remembered something that his father had told him. About some distant Malfoy relative, one who went mad because he knew the date of his death.

If Draco could find the book with the information about the Day of Death Potion, he could brew it for Harry. It would confirm the green eyed boys death and they could but all this foolishness behind them.

Draco just hoped it didn't mean that Harry put their odd friendship behind him along with it.

He didn't know why he was so involved in this madness. He and Harry were never friends, Draco never expected them to be. But at the very least he wanted them to be copacetic, not friends not enemies; just adults who could deal with each other in the functioning world.

However, he was inexplicably drawn to the dark skinned boy. Perhaps this is what everyone else felt, those who had followed and believed in a 17 teen year old boy during a war that was well beyond his years.

He cursed under his breath and attempted to shake all thoughts of Harry Potter from his mind. He needed to focus on finding this tome and- _there it was_.

* * *

Draco caught Harry in their common room. It was almost completely empty save for Thomas and Finnigan curled on the sofa together trading Chocolate Frog Cards. Believe it or not Harry _and_ Longbottom both had cards. It irked Draco to no end.

Harry looked up from where he was servicing his broom to offer Draco a soft smile when he crossed through the mirror.

Draco's heart thundered in his chest, "Po-Harry," he hissed.

The boys small smile bloomed into a grin at Draco using his first name. He pushed everything aside and treated Draco to his full attention.

"You used my name," he said smugly.

Draco feigned a sneer, "Don't read into it." he sat in the armchair beside Harry.

Harry was looking at him with a fondness he'd only seen reserved for the Weasley clan and Granger. And Draco didn't know how they got to this point, "I think I have a solution, to your problem."

Harry leaned into Draco's space, "I've already got a solution, you disapproved."

This time the blond boys sneer was real, "Well, Gryffindor's aren't really here for their thinking are they?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I have an actual solution to put this nonsense behind us. In my infinite generosity I've brewed you a potion that'll tell you when you die," Draco shifted in his seat and smoothed his hair back.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, "Draco-"

"So," he stressed,cutting Harry off, " when it spews out a date 80 or 90 years in the future, you'll see that you aren't immortal."

Harry's eyes bore into his and suddenly a brown hand snapped out to grab onto his pale one.

"If it doesn't work promise you'll kill me," He said quietly, urgently. His green eyes were burning with intent. He looked like a man half crazed.

Draco looked fearfully towards where the other two Gryffindors were sat, hoping to Morgana that they weren't paying attention.

"I _can't_."

Harry squeezed his hand, "Please," his voice broke around the word. It ripped through Draco like a knife and he squeezed Harry's hand back.

"Why me?" he whispered. "Why confide in me? Why ask this of me? I'm _nothing_ to you."

Something flashed through his eyes then Harry stood quickly, yanking Draco up alongside him. "Come with me," he said, storming through the mirror.

* * *

"You're not _nothing_ ," Harry said vehemently. "No one's nothing." He spoke like someone who had been put down his entire life.

Draco had to wonder who ever thought _the_ Harry Potter, famous by the time he was one years old, was nothing. To Draco- and to countless other young witches and wizards who had grown up hearing his name- it was unfathomable.

Harry had dragged him down to the second floor and was now pulling him inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They were still holding hands.

The apparition was there, floating above the toilets, wailing. "Oh, its Harry Potter and the crying boy," Myrtle weeped.

Draco blanched, the ghost would really never let that go.

"Myrtle," Harry started kindly, "I think Blaise Zabini is having a bath in the prefects restroom right now."

"Oh!" she hiccuped, then was gone in the blink of an eye.

He looked at Draco's bewildered face, "She doesn't need to see this." then he smirked. "Besides, it's one of her favorite pastimes, watching people bathe."

Draco didn't have a response to that, so instead he said. "Are ever going to unhand me?"

Harry dropped his hand like it was on fire. His face blooming red underneath dark cheeks and Draco was sure his face was a mirror image.

Harry moved a few paces away from Draco and placed his hands in his robe pockets. "I'm asking this of you because I can't ask anyone else. Because you're the only one who can live with it."

Draco closed his eyes, "I think you're severely overestimating my strength of character."

"I'm _not_ ," Harry assured. "Draco, I'm almost positive I won't die."

"Almost is not enough."

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Harry. The other boy was clutching at his chest as if it caused him pain. "If I wanted you dead," he began softly. "I would have told my aunt that it was you back at Malfoy Manor."

Harry looked thoughtful a moment, and stared at Draco unblinkingly. Then he released the bruising grip over his heart. "I knew you knew it was me. Why didn't you tell?"

And Draco didn't really have an answer for that. If he had identified him that day, he wouldn't be stood where he is right now. His father wouldn't be rotting in Azkaban, the Malfoy name would be revered. The Dark Lord would be a superpower in this world. Harry Potter would be dead.

He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess...I guess I was just tired of seeing people die."

Draco cast his grey eyes to Harry's green. He looked inexplicably sad, in Harry's mind his entire life rested on this very moment.

Harry Potter thought he was immortal and was willing to bring Draco down with him. Make him the sole suspect in his murder, or perhaps an accomplice in his suicide? Draco let out a long suffering sigh.

"Let's just use the potion, yeah?"

He nodded, causing his messy black to fall into his eyes, obscuring that unmistakable scar.

Draco produced a phial and small knife from his robes and summoned a pewter cauldron with a wave of his wand.

"We have to mix the potion with your blood," he said, kneeling on cold stone that was the bathroom floor.

Harry knelt across from him and held out his palm. "Thank you," he whispered.

He grabbed Harry's hand and pricked it with the knife, smirking when the other boy flinched.

"Yeah, well.." Draco said, guiding Harry's hand over the cauldron. "This is incredibly unfair of you, you realize."

Gazing at the blood dripping from his hand, he said softly, "I know."

He knew, Draco thought, he just didn't care.

Once a sufficient amount of blood has amassed in the cauldron Draco whispered a few words over it, stirred it twice clockwise and four times counter clockwise.

"What now?" Harry voiced. "Do I drink it?"

"It's not that type of potion," Draco said. He rummaged through his robes until he pulled out a folded piece of parchment, which he promptly unfolded.

"We pour out the concoction," he said smoothing out the parchment. "Onto this, it'll seep through and spell out your date. It's fairly straight forward."

Harry sat back on his bottom and swept his arm out, "Go on then. Pour it."

So Draco did.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed


	5. Chapter 5

I dont own Harry Potter. that work of fiction belongs to jk rolwing. even tho shes beating it like dead horse.

* * *

"It's blank." Harry said, voice suddenly devoid of emotion.

Breath seized in Draco's throat. "No, that's not possible. I-I must have brewed it incorrectly."

He took in the potion, or lack thereof. It had swirled around on the parchment for a few seconds, then seeped into it. All of it, there wasn't a spec of liquid to be found. That was not how this was supposed to go, the potion was supposed to spell out a date, in liquid numbers for Harry. So that he could finally see that he wasn't immortal.

But this was...

Harry stood from his sitting position on the restroom floor, his face unreadable.

Draco looked up at him, "Harry..."

"It worked, Draco, you see that it worked," he took a few steps back from Draco. "I have no death date. So kill me, i know you want to see." His voice was low and hoarse.

He didn't want to see that. That was possibly the last thing Draco wanted to see in his life.

Draco let out a shaky breath, then, he too stood from the floor. "I brewed it wrong," he said firmly.

Harry shook his head, "You're right behind Hermione in marks."

"Then I mixed up the ingredients."

"I need to know, Draco," Harry snapped. "Don't you understand? I'm always going to be _this_." he pointed to the scar on his forehead. "The boy who lived! Forever!"

Harry's hand clutched at his chest,tearing at his robes, "I've seen my parents in the Afterlife. They saved me Voldemort and they were the ones who told me it was okay to die. I have to know if I'll be able to see them again-I have to."

His voice cracked and choked off suddenly as if he was fiercely holding back a sob.

Draco pushed the heels of his hands into eyes. He tried to understand what it felt like. To never know you're parents and to believe that the one chance you had to reunite with them was being stolen.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy may be villains to the wizarding world, but to Draco they were his parents. The people who loved him; took care of him; bought him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. They listened to him complain about school and Quidditch. And maybe they had antiquated beliefs and fell on the wrong side of the schism. But he loved them and wanted to be with them no matter what.

"I think you're wrong," he said, letting his arms drop. "I think you're going to die and when you do your sure to be massive gravestone will say 'Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived'. Because whether you live or die that's who you are."

Draco took a few steps back and fingered his wand in his pocket. "And if I do this, and _if_ you're right. You'll have lived three times now." He looked at Harry and the tiniest bit of hope shining in his green eyes at the thought of Draco complying.

"So you had better get used to it."

"I'll try," Harry said, giving him a watery smile.

Draco couldn't believe he was doing this. Couldn't believe he was even entertaining the thought. Raising his wand against Harry Potter, the Chosen One. He was going to end up in Azkaban right beside his father.

Pulling his wand out of his pocket he prayed to Merlin that Potter would get up after that green bolt struck him. But, wasn't that the opposite of what he wanted?

"Remember, Draco, you have to want. Throughout your entire being you have to want me dead."

Draco's hand shook around his wand. This was becoming far too real.

Harry closed his eyes, "Do it," he said quietly.

"Do It!" Harry roared, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Draco gulped. Suddenly he was on the Astronomy Tower instead of Moaning Myrtles toilet. Facing Dumbledore, wind roaring in his ears, sweat pooling in his clenched fist. He had to do this for his family. The Dark Lord would kill them all. There was nothing else he could do.

"Avad-

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Draco's wand flew from his hand and the door to the bathroom slammed shut.

"Wha-"

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Draco's body fell to the ground and Weasley rushed to Harry's side. His eyes darting widely side to side. All he could see was Granger's fierce face glaring down at him.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped. His brown face was tear stained as Weasley eyed him up and down.

"All right, Harry?" He turned away and rounded on Draco, shoving his wand in his face. "Once a Dark Wizard, always a Dark Wizard," he spat.

Harry wiped his eyes and righted his glasses, "What are you two doing here?"

"We saw you on the map," Weasley said, not moving from his position over Draco.

"Of course, and you couldn't leave well enough alone could you?"

Draco could see Harry's feet moving closer towards him, whip out his wand and whisper, " _Finite Incantatem_."

Life returned to Draco's body and he was able to move again. He sat up slowly, wary of Weasley's wand. He was going straight to Azkaban, no trial or jury. As soon as Harry's fan club left this bathroom, he'd be done for.

"What'd you that for? He's just tried you kill you! Harry-"

"Ron!," Granger snapped. She stared at Harry with a mix and worry and anger. "Didn't you hear them? He wanted this."

All the color drained from Harry's face, "You-you don't understand. I _can't_ die."

Weasley pulled his wand out of Draco's face. He sighed gratefully and pulled himself up from the floor. He stepped a few feet back, not wanting to be anymore involved than he already was.

"Harry," Granger said gently, shooting a glance at her red-headed boyfriend. "No one's immortal. You proved that by killing Voldemort."

"No," he rubbed his chest. "No, when I killed him I made myself immortal. He was the only one who could kill me. The prophecy said so."

Harry was looking wildly at Granger and Weasley, green eyes pleading. "Guy's I-" He bent to pick up the unmarked parchment on the ground. "Look! It's blank, that means I don't die."

Draco felt a surge of pity for Harry. He was making himself look like a madman and he could tell by the look on Granger and Weasley's faces that they were far from believing him.

And while they surrounded Harry, bombarding him with questions and listened to him plead his wild case. Draco slunk out of the bathroom, thinking he'd done more than enough for Harry Potter.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

So that was it? Harry Potter was immortal? The potion clearly worked, Draco had never brewed a potion wrong in his life.

Even so, the thought of Harry living forever was unfathomable, he's literally never met anyone more willing to die. Always sacrificing himself and being a hero-honestly, it was disgusting. No sense of self-preservation at all, the boy could have never been in Slytherin.

Draco had seen him, briefly, on the quidditch pitch. Gryffindor was finishing practice while Slytherin was just beginning.

The green-eyed boy didn't even look at him, didn't even give him so much as a parting glance. Anger sparked in Draco as Harry let himself be swept away in the roaring of the Gryffindor team.

After all Draco has done for him. Harry would just cast him aside? Fine.

And if the next time Draco saw Harry running late for Charms and he hexed him? Causing his book bag to literally explode? Well who could blame him.

And while Harry was avoiding Draco, Granger sought him out.

She cornered him leaving potions, Weasley and Harry were marching off to free period when she slowed to a stop behind them.

"Malfoy?" she called, reaching out for him. Beckoning him into an empty dungeon.

He couldn't say why but he followed her. Draco schooled his face into a statue of apathy and raised his eyebrows at the girl.

"You were trying to help him weren't you?" Granger said, leaning against the professor's desk.

Draco didn't deign to respond. Helping Harry Potter had caused him nothing but pain and suffering.

She brushed a curly lock from her face, "He told me about the potion. I found the recipe in the Restricted Section and rebrewed it." Her brown face contorted. "The parchment was blank, just like the one in Moaning Myrtle's toilet."

On the outside Draco crossed his arms, "I brewed it perfectly the first time." On in the inside though…

If he and Granger had both brewed the potion and both got the same results. If Harry Potter was truly immortal then….

He rubbed his chest, the same spot that Harry so often reached for on his own person.

Granger followed the motion with her eyes, as if she'd seen Harry do it before. "Do you believe it?"

"Do you?"

They were at a standstill. Neither fully trusted the other and Draco after seeing that trusting Harry only got him petrified wasn't willing to extend an olive branch. Water dripped from one of the pipes above and landed in a puddle at Granger's feet.

After a beat the muggleborn let out a breath, "I think that Harry deserves to be happy. I think that he has suffered enough. Given enough for this world."

She looked at him with piercing brown eyes and Draco did all he could not to shrink at the force of them.

"He knew nothing of wizards or magic before he came to Hogwarts. Nothing about his mother and father and his history with Voldemort."

Draco flinched at the Dark Lords' name, how it bounced and echoed in the dreary dungeon. He gripped his left arm tightly through his robes.

"He's been persecuted and hunted his whole life. But when someone needed help he was there for them. When the wizarding world needed help, even though they shunned him for it. He still gave it.

"I think he's been in survival mode for so long that he doesn't know how to stop. There is always going to be a problem that only he can fix."

Draco smoothed his blond hair back, "You think it's all in his head."

She thought Harry was mad and Draco couldn't say it was completely improbable.

"If that's so then what about the potions?"

Granger blinked. "Is all magic absolute? Is every tincture conclusive?"

Of course she would think that. She who had been born of muggles and placed no faith in the laws of magic.

The blond boy rolled his eyes, ignoring her. "Will you ever get to the reason why you brought me here?"

"I want to know," Granger said, narrowing her eyes. "If you'll continue to help him."

"Last time I tried you and your troll of boyfriend attacked me," he drooled, picking invisible lint off his sleeve.

At this Granger straightened, pushing herself off the desk. "And you are lucky petrifying you was all we did," she snapped. "Casting an unforgivable on him was not helping."

Draco shot her a crude look. "It was inconclusive as it to whether or not it would actually kill him."

Granger opened her mouth to spit out a retort, then stopped. She let out a mirthless laugh, "I don't know why he likes you."

Draco's heart skipped.

"He'll listen to you Malfoy, so help him." And with that, she walked out of the dungeon.

Leaving him the dark with only the sound of dripping water as company.

It was freezing out tonight. Halloween was right around the corner and Hogwarts was bespeckled in pumpkins, bats, and other little creatures that go bump in the night.

And even with the fall chill, Harry had still made his way out to that Merlin-damned bench.

He wasn't doing this for Granger, Draco told himself. He wasn't even doing it for Harry. He was doing this only to sate a curiosity that that stupid potion has sparked and that was it!

Draco refused to admit that it sounded like a lie, even to himself.

"I think," Draco started, coming up beside Harry. "That I am quite done with you avoiding me. You were one of the few outside Slytherin who didn't."

Once again Harry did not flinch at being suddenly approached. Instead, he let out a long sigh and began to rise from the bench. "I don't think I am."

Draco's wand flashed, pointing at Harry straight in the chest. "I will glue to this seat if I must, Harry Potter. You will listen to me." He smirked at the startled look on Harry's face.

The dark-haired boy sat back down.

"What? Not in the mood for a duel." Draco took a step back, not lowering his wand.

Green eyes closed and Harry leaned his head against the back of the bench. "I don't have my wand."

Draco faltered, a wizard without his wand. Unarmed and unprotected.

"What?" he said again, dumbfounded. "Merlin, you complete idiot. You of all people should never be without a wand."

"Why?" Harry asked. "It's not like I can die."

Draco lowered his wand. "There are things worse than death, Harry"

At this Harry opened his eyes. He looked at Draco blankly. And Draco had to suppress and shiver from running through him.

Instead, he crossed his arms in front of him and feeble defense against Harry's apathy.

Still standing parallel to the green-eyed boy Draco said, "I believe you owe me an apology." He said Harry was going to listen to him and by Morgana he was going to.

The look in Harry's eyes finally soften and Draco released a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"You're right," Harry said, blinking up at him as though he could finally see. "I shouldn't have done that. I should have never dragged you into my...into this." He finished lamely, gesturing to himself.

"You said I'm the only one that could live with it."

Harry nodded, "I did."

Draco pressed on, grey eyes staring holes into green. "But what you meant was I'm the only one you can handle doing this to."

The other boy stayed silent.

"I can't have your blood on my hands," his throat tightened. "I can't"

Draco often had nightmares of standing on that tower with Dumbledore. Holding someone's life at the tip of his wand wasn't something he relished in. He'd never admit it but he'd be forever grateful for Weasley and Granger barging in when they did.

"I'm sorry." Harry at least had the gall to look remorseful.

It was too heavy and they were both too honest with each other. Draco didn't know if he could actually help Harry. The boy still thought he was immortal and even though he was questioning and provoking Granger, he didn't want Harry to be right. Merlin and Morgana help him he just wanted Harry to be normal. The Dark Lord was dead, they deserved this peace.

Draco tapped his chin, "Oh, I think you can do better than that." He belayed nothing of what was flying through his head.

Harry's lips drifted upward, "What would you have me do? Throw myself at your feet and beg forgiveness?"

"That would be a start."

* * *

pls enjoy


	7. Chapter 7

dont own. there are no words

* * *

"Muggles do _what_ for Halloween?" Draco sounded scandalized.

Harry rolled his eyes, "They dress up. Like witches, wizards, vampires. All sorts of magical stuff. Then they walk around their neighborhoods and ask for candy." Harry peeled off his gloves, flexing his fingers.

"Why?" Draco refused to believe it. Potter had to be making it up. Muggles didn't even know about magic.

Harry shrugged. They were seated in the quidditch stands, having just finished up a seekers only game. Draco demanded a match claiming that it was at the top of what he assured Harry to be a very long list of things to do to make up for all the strain he's put Draco through.

Harry was wise not to refuse.

"Take Muggle Studies then. If you don't believe me." Draco assumed Harry could read the disbelief in his squinted eyes and sneering lips.

Draco's face pinched even more. "I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."

Harry let out a deep laugh. It was the most genuine thing Draco's seen Harry do in months. Draco tried to suppress a smile.

"A Malfoy in Muggle Studies? My ancestors are rolling in their graves at even the suggestion."

Green eyes turned to Draco. "What does it matter? You're the only Malfoy roaming around."

The blond wizard sighed. Of course, he was the only Malfoy roaming about. His father was in Azkaban, probably not be freed in his lifetime. And his mother was housebound, ordered by the Wizengamot and the grace of Harry Potter to house arrest.

"I suppose there's still a tradition to uphold. I am a pureblood after all," Draco said offhandedly.

At this Harry cut Draco a sharp look and the blue eyed boy recoiled at the force of it. "Really? After the war, after everything you're still holding on to this outdated concept of blood?"

Harry had the gall to look disgusted.

Draco didn't know why he was up in arms. Harry seemed overly concerned about the world for someone who was actively trying to take himself out of it.

"Listen," Draco turned away from Harry, his voice calm despite the anger coming off of Harry. "I'm not saying all muggles deserve to die, I'm not him."

Harry blinked, the look of disgust sliding off his face.

"I'm only saying that I have no interest in muggles or the study of them. And I am simply pointing out the fact that no Malfoy ever has. No need to bite my head off."

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Harry's hand reaching out. Then-two fingers tapping on his cheek. Draco's breath hitched.

"Sorry." His green eyes were sparkling despite the sheepish look on his face and his hands were freezing from the brisk fall air.

Draco ducked his head and shrugged. Hiding the fierce blush creeping up his neck.

"And don't touch my face with your dirty hands."

* * *

They were in the 8th year common rooms. The fire was roaring and living with all these Gryffindors made Draco miss the cool quiet of the Slytherin dorms.

"I'm just _asking_ Hermione," Seamus Finnigan was whining. For some reason everyone was gathered in the common room. Sprawled out and squished together no one could quite tell where one House ended and another one began.

The girl in question was sitting in front of the fire, Weasley stretched out on her lap.

"Is-," Finnigan was grinning like mad. "Would there be any lasting effects in performing the engorgement charm on a person?"

The question must have been funny because Weasley burst out laughing, soon to be followed by Harry, the female Weasley, and the rest of the room save for Longbottom and Granger. Even Blaise let out a soft chuckle, to Draco's utter surprise.

Draco sent him a questioning glare, to which Blaise responded with an amused wink.

"You gotta be more specific, Seamus," the girl Weasley exclaimed, trying and failing to cover her laughter. She wasn't even supposed to be here. Being a year below them allowed her clearance into Gryffindor Tower, however, no one seemed to be bothered by her presence. "Which body part? We need details!"

"Well," Granger started interrupting them. "The only lasting effect is that the affected area would be engorged."

Finnigan's grin seemed to split even wider.

"However, with your spellwork Seamus," she cast him a dry look. "You probably cause an explosion. Which happens if you don't end the spell in time."

Every wizard in the room cringed.

* * *

"You lot are loud." Draco groused when it was finally just him and Harry in the common room.

Harry smiled packing up his book bag. "Hey, it wasn't just us. The Hufflepuffs were plenty loud too."

"The Slytherin dorms were never this rowdy. We were a much more civilized bunch."

Harry's eyes slid over to him in disbelief. "I don't believe that for a second."

Draco flashed him a sharp grin, "You shouldn't."

Harry froze, his bag halfway to his shoulder. Staring at Draco like he was only just seeing him for the first time.

"What?" Draco snapped, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He subtly wiped a hand across his face, feeling for any crumbs.

"Why did you come back? To school I mean." Harry sat his book bag on the floor and looked at Draco up and down. "Hardly any Slytherins from our year did."

He could count on his hands the number of 7th year Slytherins that had returned for the remedial year. Most of their families were too busy being shunned to even consider sending their children back to Hogwarts.

Draco raised a blond eyebrow, "Why did you?"

The Slytherin knew for a fact that Harry had been offered an Auror position immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts. They wanted his help to catch any rogue Death Eaters. Moreover, there were so many trials for Death Eaters and they're supporters that he figured that Harry would be tied up in the wizard court for months.

Plus it wasn't as if the Chosen One was a scholar. He really only knew one spell.

Harry shrugged, "Hermione wanted to come back." he said it like that explained it at all.

When he was no more forthcoming than that Draco sighed, "Well, what was I supposed to do? Hide in shame? Never show my face again?"

"Coming back gives me more time to figure out my future. I mean, I can't rely on the Malfoy name anymore."

He shifted in his chair and made a pinched face. "Pansy was too chickenshit to return. Goyle is an idiot and Crabbe...I mean at least I have Blaise."

Draco glanced at Harry and was surprised to see the boy had a sympathetic look on his face. As if Pansy didn't try and sell him out to the Dark Lord and Crabbe didn't try to murder him.

"It's not sympathy," Harry started. Draco blinked not realizing he'd spoken aloud. "It's, at the very least, understanding."

"I don't blame Parkinson, she was trying to save herself from Voldemort. And I believe you were trying to kill me, too. If I'm not holding a grudge against you or her, then I am not holding one against a dead person."

Draco wanted to retort that at the time Harry was trying to kill him too. But, that wasn't true. Harry Potter had never tried to kill him a day in his life.

"Why don't you?!" Draco snapped. Harry had never once tried to retaliate for all the things that happened during the war. For what his father and aunt had done and what Draco himself had done.

Draco's pale eyes searched Harry's brown face. "You should hate me." A thought occurred to him. "Unless you do. And that's why you keep trying to make me kill you."

A very convoluted plan if you asked Draco.

Harry gave him a very small smile which conflicted heavily with the sad look in his eyes. He pushed his glass off of his face and twirled the black frames in his hands.

"I don't have enough room in my heart to hate you," he said softly. "The war is over, I don't want to hate anymore."

And Draco thought he had exactly enough room in his own heart for it to break at the confession.

"And don't worry," Harry said slipping his glasses back on, he shook his head so his unruly hair covered his eyes. "I won't ask you to kill me again."

Coming from anyone else that statement would have been comforting. But from Harry Potter it was anything but.

* * *

...i tried to write a happy ch? a...not so sad ch?


	8. Chapter 8

I dont own Harry Potter and that's that on that.

* * *

Despite Harry's vague and ominous assurance that he wouldn't ask Draco to kill him, everything was... fine?

Halloween was uneventful. It was probably the most peaceful one Hogwarts had had in years. And even now, almost time for Christmas break, everything was quiet.

Even Harry seemed to be somewhat okay. He hadn't had anymore, what Draco called, 'episodes'. There was no staring off into space, no complaining how he'd live forever, he seemed to have his appetite back, and he didn't even rub that spot on his chest anymore.

Draco was...tentatively optimistic.

As were Granger and Weasley. He could see it in their faces and how they interacted with Harry how grateful they were for the change in demeanor. Draco had even caught Granger shooting a relieved smile at him once.

To be fair he didn't actually do much. He just sort of hung around, listened. Harry's change in attitude probably didn't even have anything to do with him.

However, no one else in Gryffindor House seemed to appreciate Draco's continued presence at Harry's side. Seamus Finnigan had bumped into him as they were leaving Potions. The wizard actually recoiled, his face twisted up in disgust.

"Watch where you're going, Death Eater!" Finnigan wiped his arm where it had made contact with Draco.

There were a few gasps and even more laughs. He had to bite back a sigh, the fact is that this is Draco's new normal. He would always have to deal with the passing comments. The shunning. And the worst part of it was he couldn't even defend himself. He was seen in cohort with The Dark Lord and other dark wizards. His father was The Dark Lord's second in command.

To retaliate was akin to sanctifying his side in the war. So all he could do was raise his eyebrows, summon the most unbothered look he could manage unto his face and walk away.

Or at least that's what he planned to do. Harry had chosen that precise moment to walk out into the corridor.

He froze, balancing on the balls of his feet as his eyes flickered between Draco and Finnigan, trying to access the situation.

"What's going on?" he was looking directly at Draco now, pushing his way through the crowd that had inexplicably formed. Probably poised for Draco to attack, like he would have done, once upon a time.

One of the Patil twins whispered in Harry's ear and Draco saw those green eyes widen, then narrow behind glasses. And he knew Harry was about to do something stupidly heroic and completely unnecessary.

"Shove off, Seamus," Harry said, coming to stand beside Draco.

The Gryffindor lifted his arms in confusion, "What? It's not like I'm wrong. We all saw him at the Battle of Hogwarts."

Draco held his breath. Anything having to do with the war tended to send Harry into a spiral. He was doing so well, Draco hated to see it destroyed

Harry let out a puff of air. "He's been pardoned. If he was what you say he is then he wouldn't have been. End of story." He stared down Finnigan, daring him to disagree.

A blatant lie if Draco's ever heard one, but of course no one else knew that for certain.

"Yeah, well." The Irish boy visible deflated. He spun on his heel and marched towards the stairs.

The rest of his classmates soon followed and Draco was left staring at Harry through squinted eyes.

"What?" Harry said.

"You're an idiot," Draco snapped, walking away.

* * *

Harry found him, climbing the staircase on the fifth floor.

"What are you upset for?" Harry asked jogging to catch up with Draco.

Draco peeked at him from the corner of his eye, a frown starting to draw on his lips, "Who says I'm upset?"

Why would he be upset, it couldn't possibly be because Harry was sticking his stupid nose where it doesn't belong. His stupid savior complex, surely not.

"Uh, I don't know? Maybe the look on your face, or your body language. Maybe the fact that you stormed away from me after Potions?" Harry grabbed Draco's arm, forcing him to stop on the landing and as the staircase before it started to shift.

"I'm not a damsel!" Draco wretched his arm out of Harry's grip. "I don't need you saving me or coming to my defense."

Draco saw understanding flickering in Harry green eyes. But the other boy just shrugged.

"Well, Seamus was being a muppet, he didn't need to go after you just for bumping into him," Harry rolled his eyes. "You don't deserve it."

Draco whirled on Harry, "But I do! He wasn't wrong, Harry. We all know which side I was on during the war." He winced, wishing he could take back his word choice, this is the second time the war was mentioned in Harry's presence, Draco didn't know how many more mentions it would take him to snap.

However, the brown boy didn't seem perturbed. "You were pardoned," Harry said fiercely.

Another staircase settled in front of them and Harry made to step forward when Draco's voice stopped him.

"Because of _you_!" Draco threw his arms out gesturing to Harry. "You pardoned me, you sentenced my mother to house arrest, you sent my father to Azkaban."

"Your vote carried all the weight, Harry. Don't stand there and act like the rest of the wizarding world agreed with you. Because they didn't, they wanted us all sent to prison."

No one wanted to cast a vote against the Chosen One, everyone could see the power he held. The power that would only grow once he left Hogwarts.

Harry crossed his arms and faced away from the staircase, "You thanked me once for not sending you to Azkaban, why are you angry about it now?" He was glaring.

"Merlin's beard, I'm not angry about that," Draco deflated. He let out a sigh and gave Harry a long look.

"I'm- look, you can't just go around 'saving' me from perceived slights. It doesn't matter what they call me or if they're whispering behind my back. I don't care and honestly it's way less of a punishment than I deserve."

Harry only stared at him, hard and evaluating, before he let out a soft sigh. "You look like me."

Draco started. He looked like Harry Potter? All their differences stood out completely stark to Draco. Harry's untamable black hair to his own slicked back platinum. Green eyes to grey, fair skin to brown. They didn't resemble each other in the slightest.

Blond eyebrows furrowed and Harry said, "Not physically-obviously. You look...resigned to the way things are. Sad." Harry gave him an imploring look.

Draco's eyes narrowed immediately. "Sad? Give me a break, _Potter_ ," he spat. "Don't push your useless emotions unto me."

He wasn't sad, he wasn't.

"It's ok," Harry said, sort of smiling. "Me too."

Harry started up the steps, motioning Draco to follow. Draco sighed, thinking Harry was far too honest with him. And much to adept at reading him.

* * *

"You have a house?" Draco asked, utterly confused. "I thought you were poor."

Harry let out a sharp laugh, "Poor? Why would you think that?" The green-eyed boy snagged a piece of Draco's toast. Popping in his mouth before the other could complain.

"I don't know!" Draco moved his plate closer to himself. "Growing up your clothes were always ratty? And I know the ministry didn't pay you for your services." Services being: saving their asses.

Draco winced, he had made it a point not to mention the Dark Lord. Or the war. Or death in general. In short, there were a lot of banned topics. Perhaps he should add The Ministry to that list.

The brown boy adopted a soft look on his face, "My parents left me money and my Godfather left me a house."

"Very generous family you've got," Draco grumbled, stabbing his sausage.

"Yes, I've never had a place of my own to go for Christmas holiday-"

"That's sad."

Draco's holidays were filled with preening and making himself presentable to properly boast about the Malfoy name to other sacred 27, barring the Weasley's of course.. And of course a private gathering with just his mother, his father, and himself. Those he missed the most.

"-and I do now. Ron invited Hermione and I to visit the Burrow. But I'm sure they want some time alone since Ron's family are visiting Fleur's family in France-

"Paris is quite nice this time of year." He fondly remembers all the spontaneous trips his parents would take him on. Simply because he'd offhandedly say he fancied something in the wizard catalogue.

"-and I love Hogwarts, but it's…"

"Stifling?" Draco ventured. He cast a look at the student's whispering and sneaking glances in his and Harry's direction.

"Nostalgic. Now will you stop interrupting me?"

Draco mimed zipping his mouth closed. Harry huffed and reached for his pumpkin juice. "So what do you think?"

Draco blinked.

Harry's mouth pulled down into a frown, "You can speak now."

"You want me to come with you for Christmas holiday to the house your Godfather left you?"

"Yes." Harry was completely serious.

 _Morgana_ , it was like Harry didn't even know who they were anymore. Harry taking his breakfast at the Slytherin table was one thing, them hanging out in between classes was fine. But, Draco going to Harry Potter's house, _during holiday_? Completely unacceptable.

"No." No, no, no, no, no.

"Come _on_ ," Harry said, leaning back on the bench. Draco wished he'd lose his balance and topple over. "It'll be...fun? We'll have lots to do. It's a bit of a fixer."

Draco blanched, "Do I look like I do manual labor?" He held out a slender manicured hand.

Harry scooted so he was seated properly again and reached for Draco's hand. Harry's hands were rough and calloused. Completely different from Draco's tincture softened hands.

Harry flipped Draco's hand, running his thumb across Draco's palm. "I guess not," Harry's fingers glided along his palm once more before he released him.

Draco pulled his hand back to his side, wringing it together with his other hand. He bit his lip, not not knowing what to make of Harry's manhandling.

"Well," Harry said, seemingly racking his brain. "It could be good publicity for you. Being seen with the 'chosen one', "he grimaced. "I'm sure one of these busybodies would let it slip to the Prophet." He jerked his head towards the same prying eyes that Draco had noticed earlier.

"Or bad publicity for you." Draco said, leaving out that fact that Harry really shouldn't be associated outside of Hogwarts with riffraff like him. Because, honestly, if Draco had to hear another lecture about 'elitism' and Granger's thoughts on 'segregation' he was going to spell himself deaf.

Harry simply raised two bushy eyebrows at him.

"No."

Harry's face fell and for a moment Draco was reminded of the time Harry first told him he thought he was immortal.

"Please, Draco," he said suddenly, his voice dropping low. "I can't stay here and I can't be alone for two weeks either. I-" he cut himself off, staring down into his cup.

 _Dammit_ , Draco thought. This was the real reason Harry wanted him to come along. Was he afraid of what he might do when alone? If that was the case then why couldn't he stay here with the professor's and Head Mistress. Or go to the Burrow with his entourage. Although, Draco supposed, you'd be hard pressed to find someone in the Wizarding World that wasn't stained with the blood of the war.

He stared at Harry. Merlin, he said he would help him, would see this mess through to the end. _Dammit._

Then there was the matter of Draco's mother. Alone, in the manor day after day. He wouldn't be able to visit again until the end of the year.

"One week," Draco said quickly, making up his mind before he could change it. "One week, I'll spend with you. Then, you go to Granger and Weasley and I visit my mother."

Harry's head snapped up, a small smile gracing his lips. "Deal."

He sighed, Draco was 100% sure he'd regret this.

* * *

thx for reading an please review, id appreciate it.


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